


Target Practice

by MechanicalRoseBud



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hanzo showing McCree how bows work, Hugs, M/M, McCree being a McCreeper, Target Practice, close contact, fluffy fluffy warmth, kissy kissy, pew pew target practice, this is kinda sweet and im mclovin' it, watching people shoot arrows is kinda hot ya know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 23:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalRoseBud/pseuds/MechanicalRoseBud
Summary: McCree is more than happy to learn how to wield Hanzo's bow.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KingLeo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingLeo/gifts).



> a Secret Santa gift for [Sev](http://seventhnight.tumblr.com/%20) !!!

McCree spent hours watching Hanzo practice in the range. He had even found a favored spot that allowed him to watch the action at an angle. McCree wasn't sure when he started picking up the small habit.

Sometimes he just liked having a place to think and the range was usually pretty quiet despite all the action of projectiles hitting cardboard men. Something about the rhythmic sound of ammunition of all kind zeroing in on their marks made McCree think of home. Though he wasn't too surprised considering in Deadlock there always weapons firing off. 

It had started off simple to where one day he had just so happened to retreat to his somewhat high and isolated perk in the massive range when his hearing was drawn to a sharp, piercing sound. The sound itself wasn't unpleasant as it reminded McCree of a sharp, biting whistle but something more intense. 

The taste of tobacco filled his senses and everything seemed slow as his dark eyes fell to the range right below him. The harsh lighting was merciless but it softened against the metal curve of the bow. McCree watched as calloused, gloved hands drew back the string could see the play of muscles as the curved weapon was forced to give. 

The arrow notched not even scraping against as it hovered there. A long moment passed before the slightest give of the strict form shuddered and McCree only caught the sharp glint. The burning whistling filled his senses, blending into the burning sweet filling his lungs and he felt his lungs stutter. 

Beautiful. 

It was watching a beast unfurl and strike at its prey. In McCree’s mind the arrow morphed into a vicious bite that ripped through the target as if it was nothing. A normal person wouldn’t have been able to see the hint of a glinting blue trail that furled around the narrow shaft. 

The touch of a dragon’s claw. 

McCree felt rather than saw the arrow pierce the target in a vicious sharp snap of metal running through wood. He almost felt sorry for the target as he took another drag of the thick cigar before grinding it out and saving it for later. Shoving it into a pocket McCree decided viewing time was over and he climbed down jumping that last small bit as he strolled over to Hanzo’s booth. 

For a moment, he let his eyes linger on the exposed left arm and the tattoo curled around it painstakingly marked into the skin. Every time he saw Hanzo fire off arrows McCree could almost feel the power of the tattoo writhing and desperate to be released. His gaze slipped lower expanding with that arm pulled back again, having already notched another arrow ready to fire. McCree admired the slope of muscle that led to Hanzo’s strong back and exposed chest that was nothing but hard edges despite the man’s age. 

“Something you need, cowboy?” McCree felt that voice send ripples down his spine and he grinned involuntarily as the archer’s eyes flickered over to him in a brief assessment. 

“Only some of your time, darlin’.” Hanzo gave McCree a look that was suspended somewhere between disbelief, amusement and the lingering wariness that always haunted every gaze. McCree slid closer as he beamed widely, he had been looking forward to this day. 

“You were going to show me how to use that fancy bow of yours, remember?” McCree saw the flash of thought flicker across Hanzo’s face as the archer relaxed apparently visibly and the barest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “That is correct,” Hanzo stepped back as McCree happily stepped up as the archer looked McCree over with a hard eye. 

The sharpshooter bit his lip at the critical way Hanzo was running his eyes up and down his body. It was only to mentally assess him but McCree ached for those small moments of Hanzo’s focus centering on him. He could practically feel the way they raked over him taking in his every feature and he followed as those eyes dipped across his hips. Those eyes dropped along with the curve of his hips and seemed to stutter somewhat lingering on the thick muscle of his thighs. If McCree looked hard enough he could see the faintest touch of pink color Hanzo’s face. 

“You will need to remove your poncho and your hat.” McCree pouted as the moment was broken and he obeyed with a shrug. He trailed the rim of his hat with his good hand finding some solace and mild grounding in the fabric of the old thing before resting it on top of his poncho. He shuffled nervously feeling a bit naked without his signature items. 

“Here,” Hanzo held out his bow and McCree hesitated before he reached out, he gave a small shudder as their hands brushed with the exchange. Hanzo’s skin was rough no doubt covered in callous and hardened skin. It forced McCree to hold down the bubbling sigh of pleasure that threatened to slip out. He distracted himself by turning toward the targets and taking a minute to look it over. 

The sudden press against his shoulder was new and he jumped slightly as a small chuckled rumbled from behind him. “You must hold it like so,” McCree had to steel himself against the sight of Hanzo reaching for his hands readjusting his grip to something more proper for a bow. The way he could feel Hanzo’s calloused fingers run over his as they notched the arrow in the divot of the bow together. It felt like beautiful clockwork how easily McCree would follow in the fluid motions of Hanzo’s hand over his. 

McCree’s own senses blended together as he attempted to grasp onto it all at once. The warm press of Hanzo’s body against his back, a warm pair of arms wrapped around him and rough fingers intertwined with McCree’s. The soft puffs of air that tickled the back of his neck and let him know just how closely they were pressed together. Holding the bow was only slightly awkward as they were opposites in dominant hand but Hanzo easily readjusted it for McCree’s comfort. It was nice. 

Hanzo was a firm, anchoring presence behind him and he felt a surge of pride as those hands fell away to brace his elbows. The practiced archer drew and positioned McCree’s arms, fingers lingering on his arm that would draw. “Yes, just like this. Draw the arrow, feel the tension in the line of your muscle,” it was like a dance. Hanzo ran his fingers along the path as McCree followed the unforgiving steel reinforced bowstring would have bitten harshly into the wrong hand. The sharp burn of drawing the hard string was borderline painful even as the arrow notched and McCree felt the exotic, smooth voice of the archer encourage his focus. 

“See the target and feel the harsh tug of the string,” it was music in his ear. The gentle play of a musical tone lingered in the underline of Hanzo’s voice and McCree zeroed in on the center of the target several yards away. “Release,” the arrow shattered the silence as it ripped through the air and McCree blinked owlishly for a long moment. 

“Bullseye!” He hooted happily and punched at the air, “That’s a very good shot for a beginner. Perhaps you should give up your loud shots for something more elegant.” McCree thumbed his nose with a heart-breaking grin at Hanzo before swiping up his stuff and leaning toward Hanzo as he chuckled even with his fingers still smarting. 

“I’ll let you handle the sniping, darlin’.” McCree dipped in closer and Hanzo sighed lightly as the sharpshooter rested his head along the shoulder. Hanzo was always warm and smelt of the sweet bitter undertone of incense. 

He slipped his arm around the archer who relented into the embrace. McCree preened at the hand slipping along the back of his neck stirring the warmth settling in. He tilted his head in as McCree’s hand traced idly around the sharp jawline of the archer before turning Hanzo into the soft lips that met him. 

Hanzo was silk. Every part of him was rough, hardened to the core besides the soft outline of his mouth. It was the only part of him that led to the gentle heart that had been nothing but fragments when they first met. McCree sighed into the way Hanzo melted against him and how the hand from behind his neck slid down rubbing on the slight curve of his hips to pull him closer. 

Warm. Open. McCree shuddered at how much Hanzo could want and how he reached out for the sharpshooter now. He had wanted to be Hanzo’s anchor. McCree wanted to hold him in the quiet moments they had to whisper encouragements in his ear. It had been a painful journey for both of them but now, now McCree had everything he needed. “Jesse,” It was breathless and utterly beautiful how Hanzo needed him in that tone. Wanted. McCree was wanted and he was never one to disappoint. 

Jesse McCree gave Hanzo a look that quaked with the passion, the adoration he had for Hanzo and the archer smiled softly back into it. “Training is over, Jesse. You have done well.” McCree would never get over how he name sounded rolling off the archer’s tongue twisted slightly in the heady accent. He chuckled at the flushed look and downcast eyes Hanzo wore even as he still remained wrapped in the sharpshooter’s arms. 

“Come on, let’s blow this popsicle stand and have a celebratory drink, darlin’.” Hanzo gave him another one of those soft smiles and McCree’s heart jumped up into his chest. “That would be acceptable.” McCree let his embrace fall through but as soon as he turned away he felt the insistent touch of fingers slipping through his. Hanzo couldn’t see the grin spreading on McCree’s face but he could feel the soft squeeze holding him tighter. 

McCree always knew he loved target practice. He just loved Hanzo a little bit more.


End file.
